Posts tagged ‘Story’

September 30, 2011

Paranoia and Testosterone

by nkwilczy

We were in Red Hook, right on the edge of the water, when the blunt started to take hold. I remember having said something like, “rotten rat bastard legs,” that had dragged me from my room for the seventh consecutive night. With the cannabinoids in my system though, the nausea and headache that had most bothered me about the hangover were fading away.

“Hung over at midnight,” I say, “lousy shit.”

Mike nods, his head was also ringing, he had the same almost dead look in his eyes that I had had when I woke up a half an hour earlier. Now my cigarette was burning out instead and soaking up my exhaustion.

Earlier that day, on the beach we had realized that our case of Dominican beers was in 22 oz. bottles, which we had still dutifully chugged until the sun dipped below the mountain to the west when we disposed of the trash with no small sense of pride. This was exaggerated, of course, by our blabbering incoherent state but we had still managed to secure the advice to visit Red Hook that night by a pair of attractive local girls who assured us that they would meet us there.

“Keys to the Benz? Keys to the Benz,” my companion mutters in his seat now, still half asleep he fiddles with the radio volume as he pays homage to Anna Nicole Smith.

Jesus, I shake my head, offering him my pack of cigarettes, sure to shut him up, “Have a smoke, you lunatic bastard.”

He lights it, I fumbled them back into my pocket.

“Look out!” he shouts suddenly, prompting me to slam on the breaks rather than hit an old lady who was staggering through the street in her vacation attire.

“This is tourist country,” I admitted, waving my fist at her as she tottered out of the street.

“I thought you’d see her soon enough,” he replies.

I’ve always considered myself to have a decent degree of animal magnetism. With most mammals, iguanas, birds, sure I get along; but there has always been one species of violent, ill tempered apes that has consistently evaded my attempts to socialize in a positive manner. The old lady waves her fist back at me menacingly.

Inside the bar we order our beers, sipping them as we tried to chain smoke our bodies into cooperation for one last night on the two week long binge that had been our spring break. I recline as much as I can on the stool, play with my collar.

Behind me, all of the sudden I hear, “And this is my lawyer, Nick.”

” Добрый вечер” I reply, ” Меня зовут Доктор юридических Вильчинский”

My friend gives me a strange look as the girls try to converse with me, I rebuke them with feigned ignorance, maybe these fucking people will get along with me better if they think I don’t speak a word of their language. I describe Moscow University in pretty good Russian and it really doesn’t make any difference because no one, not even Mike speaks Russian.

Which, of course, brings up all sorts of problems within the entire scenario, for starters, his lawyer? The fuck sort of a way was that to introduce a hung over wreck of a human? And the credibility is further strained when the girls ask him to explain to them, in good old Английский язык how he met a Russian lawyer, so young and clearly only recently graduated from Московский университет.

As they wander to the dance floor, leaving two obvious lunatics staring at their asses, I shake my head in disappointment at my companion. That poor fucking Mick, he never understood the fundamental gullibility of the Englishman’s culture.

These poor saps even believe that they are free. Just tell them they’re asking too many questions, spreading conspiracies, compromising national security. Hell, tell them they aren’t pretty enough. Anything to get them worked up on their own trip too much to check our facts. My newfound ignorance of Английский язык had quickly become an unmanageable liability.

Abstinence is not a terrible philosophy, although it will never make you pure. The poor suckers who engage in it just for that are only letting the secondary effects get so far into their heads that their wild visions of men with wings and all seeing eyes grow to larger than life proportion. That secondary effect is what it’s good for though, it is the real advantage. Abstinence will drive you stark raving mad. Hell, after thirty years or so of this business I could see it being perfectly reasonable not to put up a fight, to lay back and let it happen, while they nailed you to a fucking cross.

February 3, 2011

Late Again

by nkwilczy

The phone rings, he reaches out from under the sheets.

“Dammit Gary, this is the third time you’ve been late this week, what the hell is going on?”

“I’ll be there in a second” and he hangs up, he knows that the lecture can wait until he gets down to the shop.

He looks over at the empty space in his bed, he frowns. He used to wake up on time every morning, like a machine.

What’s the point?

Gary slides into his jeans quickly, sprays the sort of body spray that all of the ads claim will provoke the adoration of swarms of women. Gary knows better than that, he pulls on his shirt.

Gary used to eat breakfast. Gary used to wake up early and make breakfast for two, all before he went to work, dutifully, on schedule.

What’s the point?

Gary pulls out of his driveway onto Coronation Street. He is not a highly educated man, but a stoner friend of his had once subjected him to a series of youtube videos about quantum mechanics. They had claimed that a stream of electrons behaved differently depending on whether it was being observed or not.

His stoner friend had asked him, “Isn’t that like… trippy man?”

Gary was completely sober; he had no thoughts on how “trippy” it was. But he could sympathize with the electrons.

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